


Ordering Out

by musamihi



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-27
Updated: 2011-12-27
Packaged: 2017-10-28 06:32:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/304772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musamihi/pseuds/musamihi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Week 4 of sherlock_ldws @ LJ, theme: texting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ordering Out

It's been two days since he's heard from Sherlock. That happens sometimes. John has a lot of practice not-worrying – and if that's not quite the same as not _being_ worried, he makes do. Still, when his phone buzzes, he scrambles for it.

 _Need lunch. Can't leave. Be discreet. SH_

It's eight o'clock at night. But when Sherlock's on a case, it's a miracle he notices he's hungry at all. No sense nitpicking.

 _I'll bring you supper. Where?_

By the time the reply arrives, John's already thrown on his jacket. His keys are jangling in his restless hand.

 _Honour Oak & London Rd. SH_

It's going to take him an age to get there. He swings by the sandwich shop for something hearty, and when the cab finally drops him on the darkened, silent corner, it's begun to rain. He ducks under the spread of an ancient-looking oak tree, clutching the paper bag to his chest to keep it dry and to push down the rising dread behind his ribs. There's no one here. It's been almost an hour since they last made contact – anything could've happened –

His phone leaps to life in his pocket.

 _Just leave it by the tree. SH_

In his relief John forgets to _be discreet_ , and turns on his heel to try to decide which of the darkened windows is hiding the man he's come to feed. Then, out of the blackness some twenty feet above, there falls a very pointed _ahem_.

He looks up. Sherlock's stretched out along a branch, rolling his eyes even as he hides them once again behind a pair of binoculars. There's a hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth, though, that makes the hour-long trek back to Baker Street seem a small enough price to pay.


End file.
